


When The Moon Shines Red

by Cardinal_Sin (HU_shipper)



Series: Powerwolf Prompt Fics [6]
Category: Powerwolf (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, First Time Shifting, M/M, Near Death, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 15:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19872196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HU_shipper/pseuds/Cardinal_Sin
Summary: The first shift is always the most difficult, and since Roel's first full moon is coming up, Charles takes him out of town, hoping that the calmer surroundings will help Roel through it. Things don't go as planned.





	When The Moon Shines Red

It all started with Charles checking a calendar. Roel's very first moon was coming up, and Charles just wanted to make it easier for him. He could vaguely remember his own first moon, howling at the sky in agony behind an abandoned apartment complex, bleeding all over from gashes left by his own claws, having tried to get rid of the pain by cutting it out. All he wanted was to get his lover through it as comfortably as possible.

A day before the moon reached its fullest they drove up to a small, rustic hotel in the countryside, close to the picturesque ruins of an ancient castle. The area was surrounded by a forest, wide enough for a werewolf to run around freely but never becoming so deep that they would be in real danger.

Of course, ideally Roel would get through it in their hotel room, not even needing to transform fully. It wasn't impossible; Matthew, to everyone's surprise, had been able to do it – of course, maybe Falk cuddling him all the way through might have helped – and so had Attila, of course. Charles wasn't sure about Falk – they couldn't even be sure where he had come from – and his case was a peculiar one, but from past example Roel could be able to get through the moon without shifting completely.

Charles was a planner by nature, and a seasoned werewolf. He knew that, if it were to come to that, knowing his surroundings would help Roel if he needed to break away and run off his shift. That's what had lead them to their walk in the forest and around the ruin. Moss filled the crevices of the crumbling, ivy-covered stone walls, casting eerie shadows on the forest floor. It was drawing close to dusk, and Charles was ready to turn around and go back to the hotel, to spend a last night comfortably, to get Roel as well-rested as possible for the next day's ordeal.

It was ridiculously easy to forget about syncing heartbeats together. For Charles, it was like breathing, a natural thing he had never paid attention to. Even before Roel became a wolf, Charles had been tuned onto his heartbeat, always discretely monitoring him. It was because of that comfortable forgetfulness that when the alarm went off in his head, Charles' first reaction was confusion. To make sure that the sirens weren't triggered by Roel, Charles turned to his lover – only to find him with claws digging into a tree's trunk, eyes flashing, pure panic radiating off his entire body.

Charles looked up the moon. It wasn't supposed to be a full moon until tomorrow, it wasn't supposed to trigger a shift for at least twenty more hours. The moon was full though, significantly larger than usually and glowing with a red-orange light.

A blood moon.

Charles could remember going through one of those, and worry already flooded him. Roel was all too weak to go through a blood moon. First shifts were the most strenuous, and to do it while the power of the red goddess was pulling at his wolf even stronger? It could kill Roel.

He was on his lover's side in a second, laying a comforting hand on his back, muttering words of encouragement into his ear. Roel was trembling all over, muscles tensing and releasing in spasms, perspiration rapidly building on his fiery skin. Charles could tell that he was trying to fight off the shift, keeping it at bay through sheer willpower. Pride flooded Charles by how strong his mate was, but it was soon overcome by worry as Roel let out a pained groan.

"Charles," he hissed out, mouth drawn in a narrow line, his teeth grit in pain, "I can't hold this off, you need to get me to a closed space as fast as you can."

"I won't cage you, Roel. What if you need to run?" Charles asked, his eyes roaming over his lover's features anxiously.

"If I need to run, I _will_ run, I can promise you that. But if you keep me out here, I will hurt someone by accident, and I won't have that. _Get me to a closed space_."

The old wolf in Charles was rising to a debate with Roel, and Charles pushed it down forcibly. Experience didn't matter at all if Roel wanted something different. Charles sighed and nodded, relieved when he found the grateful, albeit tense, smile making its way to Roel's features. Charles gently removed Roel's claws from the tree, catching him as his body sagged, momentarily losing control of his muscles. Charles shook his head at Roel's half-hearted apologies and picked him up into his arms – forever grateful to his werewolf strength – starting to run toward the ruins.

It probably wasn't the best idea, seeing how abandoned buildings usually didn't make for comfortable spaces, but it was as closed-off as they would get in a godforsaken forest, and it offered shelter from the moon's torturous light. Roel was limp in his arms, Charles noted, hurrying his steps to get to the ruins before the transformation would fully commence. He climbed up along narrow paths, jumping from one rock to another, trying to get to the former entrance of the once-castle as quickly as possible.

The inside of the ruin was unexpectedly clean. Of course, dry vines and fallen leaves covered most of the floor space, and sure, insects galore, but it was dry and not looking like it would collapse on them in any second. After kicking away rocks and pebbles, Charles slowly set Roel down on a soft-looking patch of moss and grass. He took off all his layers – jacket and sweatshirt – and covered Roel with them, to help him preserve body heat, and with it, energy. Charles shivered a little from the cold before his body calibrated his new temperature, and he sat down with his back against a stone wall, pulling Roel into his lap.

Roel let out a pained whimper and curled into Charles' body as much as he could in that position. Charles pressed a kiss to his forehead, hands smoothing down along his arms. He could feel his own wolf try to break to the surface, to chase the pull of the moon, to run wild and with abandon until the dawn – he pushed it down with a brutal force, scolding himself for even considering it. Roel needed his help. Roel suddenly clutched at Charles' hand. Charles looked down, straight into Roel's wide, panicked eyes.

"Is it-" Roel gasped out, looking like he was in too much pain to formulate the words, "Is it safe?"

"Yes, love," Charles murmured in a low, relaxing tone. "Come on, lean back against me. Let go. It will be okay."

To be honest, Charles was lying through his teeth. It would not be okay. In fact, the actual painful part was just about to start. Charles flinched a little as he felt the first bone shatter under his touch, scolding himself when his own panic made Roel tense up. Charles cupped Roel's cheek and made him look into his eyes. Not trusting his own words, Charles tried to make Roel understand that it would be okay through his eyes only. Maybe it worked, maybe it didn't, but the shift slowly took over Roel.

The crunching sounds of each bone shattering and reassembling into those of a completely different entity made Charles feel sick, swallowing a few times to make the bile stay where it was supposed to. Charles could feel thick hair sprouting from Roel's skin under his fingers, the shift finally reaching his head. It would all soon be over.

The next second, Roel let out a scream of agony. It wasn't the howl of the wolf he was supposed to become, it was an entirely human cry for help. Charles made Roel roll over so he was lying in a foetal position on the ground, Charles kneeling down in front of him to investigate the reason for the cry.

Roel's face was stuck halfway through the shift; his jaws already elongated, resembling the muzzle of his wolf, but the rest of his face was still him. He was panting heavily with tears staining his cheeks, his eyes bloodshot and narrowed as his face scrunched up in pain. Charles sucked in a sharp breath. He had never seen something like that before. Roel's body was trembling with the effort of keeping himself upright, the shift having burned up most of his energy. Charles knew that if Roel stayed in that half-shift phase for much longer, he would end up hurting himself, probably leaving lasting reminders of it.

"Roel, do you understand me?" Charles asked in a low voice, careful not to startle him. Roel nodded a little, a fraction of an inch, barely visible. "Good, that's good, baby. Listen to me. You're almost there, okay? You're almost done. You have to keep going now." Charles was painfully aware of the tremble in his own voice, hating himself for it, for being weak when Roel needed him to be strong more than ever.

Not trusting his voice anymore, Charles tried to comfort Roel with small touches, caressing the nape of his neck, down his trembling arms, cupping his cheeks. It didn't seem to help though, and after about ten minutes, Roel was still stuck. He was obviously in great pain now, the veins on his temples, throat and arms throbbing visibly. There were tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Charles felt helpless in the face of his lover's suffering.

The idea came out of thin air. Maybe Charles could wake up the fight instinct in Roel's wolf and force it to take over by attacking him. It was risky and desperate, but he had no other choice at this point. It was obvious that Roel wouldn't be able to hold himself together for much longer.

Charles felt his own consciousness pushed into the background of his mind as the wolf took over, and he took a second to assess the shift – checking the health of his wolf, and also if there were any mistakes in the transformation. Charles' wolf growled. Whether or not it was just an 'I'm fine' kind of growl or it was directed at Roel, Charles didn't know. He kept his eyes trained on Roel, who was looking at him now, eyes wide in panic. Roel had seen him as a wolf before, so it was impossible for him to be afraid of that. Which meant that it was working!

The change took over Roel much slower than it was supposed to, but Charles chalked it up to him being exhausted, not particularly wary of it. His wolf recoiled at the sounds of bones crushing and melding again.

The next second, there was a wolf standing in front of him, its light brown coat glinting with coppery tones, not unlike Roel's natural hair colour. Charles felt a rush of relief wash over him at the sight of the full shift, but it didn't last long as the wolf's legs trembled and it collapsed back on the ground. For a werewolf it was highly dangerous to run out of energy. The wolf was a secondary entity; it wasn't able to feed, to hunt. If Roel got too weak to turn back, it could be his end.

Charles persuaded his wolf to let him back in charge, a task that was much harder to accomplish during the full moon than any other time, and crouched by the wolf's side. He made sure the wolf – not Roel – could see his hands and face, to see he was no harm and let the human inside dictate the reaction. When the wolf didn't reject Charles' advances, he stroked both hands down its neck, his hands sinking into the thick, dense fur.

Charles couldn't have said how long he had stayed like that, sitting uncomfortably, stroking comforting hands through the coat of the new wolf, murmuring encouraging words. He had one thing to go on though: the pull of the wolf inside him slowly lessened as the moon left its full phase, going back to its usual hiding spot inside.

There were no signs of change in Roel though, and Charles was starting to worry again. In theory, Roel would be able to take back the reins from his wolf and turn back, but again, first moon. Charles could do nothing except encourage him.

The shift was all too sudden and definitely not quite right. Roel's body jerked under his hands, convulsions running through his body. He lifted his head and let out a pained howl, the agony in his voice breaking Charles' heart. He could only hope it would be over soon. He forced himself to hold on even as he had to screw his eyes shut, the feeling of breaking bones and retracting fur under his fingers already too much to handle. He didn't need to see it as well.

It stopped just as suddenly as it began, and Charles opened his eyes. Roel was back in his human form, naked and bleeding, eyes closed and mouth slightly agape. Charles felt tears well up in his eyes as pride flooded him. Roel was through his first shift, Roel was a true were, Roel was –

Roel wasn't breathing.

Charles laid him down on the ground and knelt next to him, flattening his ear against his chest to check what his fingers had caught up on. He couldn't hear the raspy breaths he had grown so used to in the years he had slept next to Roel, and the heartbeat was out of rhythm and just barely there. It seemed to get weaker by the second.

Charles touched Roel's cheek, cringing as he felt how hot his skin was – as though he had just crawled out of a hot shower and into bed – but Roel's head lolled to the side without any resistance. Charles' breath picked up, panic slowly building in him. Could it be that Roel had changed back too late?

It was a strange and frightening thought, and what was even worse about it, was that it was all too realistic. Roel could be dying. Charles felt strange at how calmly he was handling it. It was probably from the shock. He took Roel's face in his hands and stroked his thumbs down his cheeks. He called out Roel's name, first quietly, then louder and louder as time passed and Roel still wasn't responding. Charles never even realized he had started crying until he noticed the drops on Roel's skin. He was screaming now, begging his love to wake up, pressing fingers to his carotid to try and find his pulse again, to give himself some hope that Roel was still there, that Roel was still with him.

Nothing.

Charles slowly sat back on his haunches. Roel was one of the tallest people he had ever known, and yet now he looked so small and vulnerable. Charles wiped at his eyes, mad at himself for being weak. _Roel wouldn't want me to grieve_ , he thought, trying to fool himself into caring a little less that the love of his life was dead in front of his eyes.

_It's my fault._

Charles couldn't help the tears as they came back again, with even more force now than before. He was weak. But there was no one around to see it, so what was the point in hiding it? He lied down next to Roel and cuddled into his side, the wolf's instincts taking command as his own mind slowly crumbled. If he closed his eyes and concentrated enough, he could almost feel Roel's heartbeat, the rise and fall of his chest, just like home, just like every single night in the past five years.

It wasn't real though. Charles knew it wasn't, but playing pretend delayed his grief by a little, his confused mind still not processing the events completely. The human mind – especially enhanced by werewolf powers – could do freaky things though, as Charles discovered, because it all felt so real. He sniffled a little and curled even more into his lover's side.

"What's wrong, Charlie?"

And that definitely wasn't in his head. Charles snapped upright, staring at Roel's body, eyes wide with shock. Roel's eyes were open and there was a weak smile hiding in the corner of his mouth. Charles took a stuttering breath, feeling the tears come back again.

"You're alive!" He managed to say finally, before practically throwing himself on top of Roel. The younger man chuckled – a little breathlessly, oops – and wrapped a weak arm around him.

"Of course I'm alive, baby," he murmured into Charles' shoulder, "why wouldn't I be?"

"Your fucking heart stopped!" Charles sobbed, his nails clawing at Roel's arms in helpless fear. "You didn't breathe! I thought you – I thought I killed you!"

Roel sighed and pushed Charles away. He managed to sit up, Charles half in his lap in this position. He buried his hands in Charles' hair and pulled him close.

"If I died like this," he whispered, "it wouldn't be your fault. But it won't ever happen, okay?" He waited until Charles nodded. "Because I'll always be here for you. I will stay alive as long as you need me. No matter what it takes."

Charles leaned forward and cut him off with a fierce kiss. He was crying again, full-on sobbing to be exact, but he couldn't care. The kiss was messy and a little disgusting thanks to it, but Roel didn't seem to mind. He returned it with just as much passion, pulling Charles closer and closer until the next step could have only been actually fusing their bodies together.

"I'm so proud of you," Charles whispered onto Roel's lips as they broke apart. "You did it."

"With your help," Roel agreed. "I owe my life to you, Charles. Thank you."

Charles shook his head and opened his mouth to object, but Roel shut him up with another kiss before he could say anything.

"I said what I said, Charles," he growled. "You saved me."

Charles leaned back a little. "Fine. Maybe you're right." He couldn't help but chuckle as Roel gave him a tiny kiss on the cheek.

"Always am, love," Roel murmured, "always am."


End file.
